


Reborn

by IerDePier



Category: Septic egos, jacksepticeye
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-08-07 11:58:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16408061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IerDePier/pseuds/IerDePier
Summary: And maybe second chances aren’t worth what they take from you. Rebirth cannot erase the sins of the father, no matter how hard you try





	1. Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first work ever please be nice

**Henrik**

At this point he doesn’t even remember why he wanted to pursue this research. His research. He just knows that it has cost him too much already, but if he stops now it will all be wasted. That’s what he tells himself every morning. He knows that gambling addicts tell themselves the same.

He’s happy to see he’s the first one to arrive at his lab. That gives him some time to check on today’s subject. His “recruiters” picked up a new homeless drunkard from the street, one of those people nobody will miss. They always seem happy to be here. It’s often the first time in weeks they’ve been able to take a warm shower, eat a warm healthy meal, and sleep in a proper bed with clean sheets. This patient is no different, although he seems to be having a nightmare. Drops of sweat glisten on his forehead, and he seems to be murmuring something, maybe a name. It doesn’t matter, these patients don’t have a background story here.

“Good morning Henrik, you’re here early”

Henrik looked up and smiled, “Always am. Good morning Sam!” He had been so deep in thought, he didn’t even hear her enter. “Can you start prepping today’s subject?”

“The new one? Mr Brody?”

“Yes, but you know protocol. From now on you’ll refer to him as subject 13.”

“Of course, doctor, I’ll prep subject 13 for testing”

_Heh, protocol. A clever way of dehumanizing the patients. It keeps morale up and helps to wash the red of his and his colleagues’ hands. Besides, he doesn’t have to go through all the red tape and bureaucracy that comes with human testing if the board doesn’t know he’s testing on humans. And so, mister C. Brody becomes subject 13._

**Chase**

_“What the fuck have I done?”, he whispers. His blood-stained hands tremble as he looks down upon his wife. Ex-wife._

_“Stacy! Stacy! Please wake up, Stacy please!” He drops down on his knees and shakes her shoulders._

_There’s blood everywhere. Way too much blood. It’s not his. Suddenly, a cold hand grabs his wrist. “This is your fault Chase. You did this. Why didn’t you go to the AA? Why weren’t you a better father? Why,” she tightened her grip around his wrist, “didn’t you just stop drinking?”_

_Tears stream down his face, “I’m so sorry Stacy. I tried, I really did. I tried for you, I tried for our kids, but-”_

_“Did you? Did you really? Is that what you tell yourself, you worthless prick?” Stacy grinned, “I deserved better than you. The kids deserve better than you. You’re on a path to self-destruction and you don’t give a shit who goes down with you."_

He dreamed about her again. That’s what happens when he goes to bed sober. He had almost forgotten what those dreams were like, but the people here refused to give him alcohol, they said he had to be spry and clear-minded the next morning. For the experiment, right. When it’s done, he can take his money and go. It’s more than enough to cover rent and food for a couple of months. _A new start_. He smiled.

His room had two doors. One lead to a bathroom with hot water and clean towels, the other to a corridor. The room was just big enough for a bed, a closet, a chair, and a table. The walls were completely empty, except for one clock, softly ticking away above the table. No windows. Nothing about this room was homey. Not the white walls and ceiling, with unforgiving LED lights, not the cold tiled floor, not the sterile bathroom. _Hm, well, at least there is food, clean clothes, a hot shower, and a comfortable bed._ Despite the nightmare this was the best sleep he’s had in a while. A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts. A woman wearing a white lab coat opened the door.

“You’re awake,” she said, opening the door wider to wheel in a small cart. On it was some folded fabric, and a food tray. “I have breakfast and clean clothes for you. Be ready in 30 minutes.” She looked at Chase, expectantly.

“Uh, okay”, Chase nodded. That seemed to be what the scientist was waiting for. She turned around and left.

After exactly 30 minutes, the scientist from before knocked on the door again. “It’s time, follow me.” She waited in the corridor until Chase left the room, then closed the door behind them. He managed to catch a glimpse of her key card before she turned her back to him and started walking. _‘Dr. Wilson’_.

The corridor was as white and sterile as his room had been, with nothing to indicate where he was or where he was going. Chase had thought about running before, but after following the seemingly emotionless scientist around a couple of corners just to show even more identical hallways, he let go of that thought. This place was a maze, and it seemed impossibly big. Was the scientist leading them in circles? He passed multiple doors that could’ve led to rooms identical to his. He was about to ask a question when they reached a double door.

They had given him a black shirt and black leggings, black socks, and a pair of trainers. It felt like exercise clothes, so he was expecting a room with gym equipment. A treadmill, or a punching bag, maybe some weights. And probably medical equipment too, to track his heartbeat, body temperature, and breathing. Instead he was led to an empty room. One of the walls was a mirror. “Wait here”, ordered the scientist, and she left. Chase looked around the room again. There were tiny speakers in the corners of the room, near the ceilings. He felt like he was being watched and looked at the mirror. Could it be one of those one-way mirrors? He imagined a team of blank-faced scientist in white lab coats, just like Dr. Wilson. Notepads in hand, staring at him, waiting for him to do something. He had to suppress the urge to wave.

There was something else with him in the room, he doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before. A glass container, beaming with green light. Just looking at it made his skin crawl. It emitted a high frequency noise, like an old tv. He backed away from it. What was he supposed to do here? He looked at the speakers, waiting for instruction, but the room remained silent. He looked at the mirror again, tried to look through it, but he only saw himself. Pale skin, bags under his eyes, scars and bruises on his arms, yellow teeth, hollow cheeks. The lights started flickering as a noise made him avert his eyes, and to his shock he saw that the glass container was open, and whatever it contained was out.

**Henrik**

The scientist in the lab called it ‘corruption’. But the truth is, none of them knew what it is or how it works. He wasn’t even sure whether it is an organism or something else. It had electrostatic properties and seemed to have the ability to interfere with the neural network of animals. They did trials on rodents before, but all test subjects managed to kill themselves shortly after becoming ‘corrupted’, it was unlike anything the scientists here had ever seen before. Animals don’t commit suicide, it’s not in their nature. Their most primal instinct is survival of the individual, and self-destructive behaviour is the opposite of that. It made no sense.

Someone suggested that there was one species that did portray self-destructive behaviour to that extent: homo sapiens. Humans. Desperate for progress, Henrik convinced the others to proceed to human trials, and now here they are.

The ‘corruption’ radiated with a green light, as it glitched around in its tiny glass container.

Dr. Wilson was on her way with the subject now, they could arrive any minute. He yawned. Just enough time to get another cup of coffee.

When he got back, everyone was already waiting for him. The subject was in the room, and for a second it was like the subject was looking straight at him. Impossible, of course, because what was a window to the observing scientists was a mirror to the subject. “Start procedure,” he ordered. Dr. Allen did some things on their computer, and the glass container opened.

It moved unlike anything he’s ever seen before. It’s like his brain doesn’t have the capacity to understand what he’s looking at. The lights flicker as it approaches subject 13, who has just turned around to see the empty container. It’s gone. The lights stop flickering.

“Now we wait,” Henrik said, as he approached the intercom. “Chase, can you hear me Chase?”

“What the fuck was that! What have you done to me?” he screamed, as he started clawing at his skin.

His skin, it was... turning green? The lights started flickering again. “Please calm down Chase, everything is alright. Everything is gonna be okay.”

A red line appeared across his throat as his eyes went completely black. His voice changed. “No, it won’t,” he said, and then the lights went out.


	2. Old Friends

**Jackie**

When he was ten, he had to write an essay for school about what he wanted to be when he grew up. He wrote about wanting to be like Spider-Man, and the adults around him had laughed at him. Yet there he sat, roughly fifteen years later, on top of a rooftop, dressed in red spandex.

The homeless people in this city were his eyes and ears on the street, but more and more of them had gone missing over the past months, his good friend Chase being the most recent victim. Whoever was behind it really knew how to pick their victims; none of the them were in touch with family or loved ones, and most of them were addictes. When someone like that goes missing, no-one’s gonna be looking for them, least of all the cops. Sounds like a job for Jackieboy Man!

One of the missing people had been talking about being accepted into an experiment the night before they went missing. After asking around, one name came up: Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein. An awarded and respected scientist, although not much could be found about his current project. However, a quick google search delivered an address, which brought him to this very rooftop.

On the roof was a vent outlet. _Perfect_. He unscrewed the cover and looked down into the opening. That’s gonna be a short but noisy fall. _What would Spider-Man do? Well, he has Spider-powers, so he’d crawl on the walls. Grappling hook it is!_ He attached the hook to the edge of the vent and lowered himself down into the dark. Now to find the doctor. The building isn’t terribly big, so that shouldn’t be a problem, right? He took the building’s blueprints from one of his pockets. _Let’s see… 3rd floor. Looks like this is mostly offices, probably won’t find illegal experiments here. I should move on_. He found an empty hall near the staircase and dropped down before hurrying into the stairwell. _2nd floor… well would you look at that! The names of the doctors working on this floor are posted on the wall by the door! That’s convenient!_ _No Schneeplestein though... let's keep moving._

He continued down until he reached the basement. ‘ _Dr. Von Schneeplestein’, bingo. Of course, he’s in the basement, what a cliché. I bet he also has a German accent and a villainous laugh._

He peeped around the corner. _It’s… abandoned?_ The hallway was filled with silence, and the lights flickered for a moment. _Creepy_. He decided to look for a vent, just in case someone comes around.

The blueprint showed a large hallway dead ahead and some small rooms to his right, possibly more offices? The vents leading to the offices were too small for him to crawl into, so he had only one way to go: immer geradeaus.

He reached the end of the main vent line, and… hit a dead end. Disappointing. There was nothing beyond this point on the blueprint, but when he investigated the hallway, he saw a big double door… _Suspeeshy_ . The vents don’t run through to whatever was beyond, he’d have to walk through the door like a commoner. _Is that worth the risk? There’s something unofficial going on back there, why else wouldn’t it be included in the blueprint? On the other hand, it could very well be a trap, it makes no sense to have such a bottleneck in a place like this._

The lights flickered again. He made up his mind and slid out of the vent, reached for the door, but stopped when he noticed a key card reader. _Damn_. To make matters worse, he could hear two sets of footsteps approach from behind, and there was no time to climb back into the vent. He hurried behind a corner and held his breath. The footsteps slowed down in front of the door and he gambled a quick peek. _It's Chase!_ He was following a lady in a lab coat. She held her key card against the reader, and the door opened for them. _Now is my chance!_ He waited for them to pass through, then quickly ran to the door and managed to catch it right before it closed. He waited a couple of seconds before going through it. Chase and the lady were already out of sight, but there was another vent. _Sw_ _eet_!

Trying to figure out where to go next, he heard something. _F_ _ootsteps! And whistling?_  He followed the sound, and found a man in a lab coat, holding an empty cup. He couldn’t read the name on his key card from here, but there was something about him… could this be Dr. von Schneeplestein? He entered a little room that looked like a breakroom or a kitchen. The doctor was getting coffee? How mundane. He wanted to find Chase again, but he had no idea where he went, he didn't even know how big this place was. He’s completely blind here. Best to follow this guy, maybe he’ll lead him to Chase. _What are you up to, doctor?_

 

**Chase**

The first thing he noticed when he came to was the feeling of cold wet pavement against his cheek. He lifted his head and opened his eyes, looking around. The dim light from a nearby lamppost attracted flying bugs, and he could see a bat swooping around it. The second thing he noticed was the unfamiliar environment. He was under some sort of viaduct, but this looked nothing like his usual territory. _How did I get here? How long had I been out?_ He inspected himself and found that he was still wearing the clothes from the lab, although dirtier and with more holes in them than when he got them. He doesn’t remember a thing since that glass container opened. Did they let him go? Did he fight his way out? He wasn’t in any pain, aside from a slight headache.

He got up and started walking, in the direction of where he thought was the city centre. His surroundings gradually filled up with sound and light, confirming his guess. He spotted a payphone and patted his pockets. No change, and besides, who could he call? The cops aren’t gonna help a guy like him, and the only phone number he knows by heart is Stacy’s. One thing he does know for sure is that there is no way he’s going back to that lab. _Shit, they might be looking for me. Maybe if I ask nicely, Stacy_ w _ill let me stay the night?_ On the corner of the street he could see a fellow beggar, with a cup in front of them. _Oh, I’m going to hell for this_ , he thought as he approached them. They seemed to be asleep, and there was nobody around. He quickly picked a few coins from the cup, and then backed away. “I’ll find a way to pay it forward,” he whispered into the wind.

He dialled Stacy’s number. _Please pick up, please pick up, please pick-_

“Hello?” Her speech was kind of slurred, his phone call had probably woke her up. _Of course it did you fucking prick, it’s the middle of the fucking night._ “Hello? This is Stacy, who’s calling?”

“It’s me, Chase”, he uttered. “Don’t hang up! Please listen, I know it’s late, but I’m in trouble and you’re the only person I could call.”

“Jesus fucking Christ Chase, what have you done this time?”

“I-, I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” She sounded agitated “What did you take?”

“N-nothing! I’m completely sober, I swear. Listen, I was hoping I could maybe crash at our house?”

She sighed, and remained silent for what seemed like an eternity, while Chase twirled the phone cord around his finger.

“Fine. There’s an old couch in the garage, you can sleep there, and you do not, under any circumstance, enter the house while the kids are here, is that understood?”

“Yes, thank you, Stace.”

“Don’t thank me yet. The spare key is in the usual place,” she said, and then she hung up

Chase put the telephone back. They always kept a spare key under a flower pot outside, just in case someone locked themselves out. Why hasn’t Stacy moved it elsewhere? Maybe she simply forgot? Maybe she- _n_ _o, d_ _o_ _ _n’t_ do this to yourself man, don’t get your hopes up like that. _

 

**Henrik**

He deeply regretted his policy of not learning more about the personality and backstory of his test subjects. He had no idea what they’d do or where they’d go if they broke out. He never even considered that as a realistic scenario. They couldn’t go to the cops, and neither could he, thanks to the illegal nature of the experiments. He couldn’t ask around either, at least not without raising suspicion. So instead, he sent out his colleagues and assistants in duo’s, to patrol the streets in cars or on foot. Without success. Night was starting to fall over the city, so he picked up his phone and started calling.

“Stop looking, rest up, we’ll continue the search tomorrow morning.”

There was no way they were gonna find subject 13- Chase- in the dark, especially if that _thing_ is helping him.

He didn’t believe his eyes, still couldn’t. No-one could. He tried to watch the CCTV footage to clear things up, but there was no camera footage to check back on: the blackout had destroyed the memory of every camera in his lab. Probably for the best, because he knows exactly what would happen to him if the officials found out what he’s been doing for these past months.

He takes another sip of coffee- _Yikes, cold. How long has he been sitting here?_ He got up and stretched his stiff joints. When he turned to the door to throw out the old coffee, his eyes fell on his lab journals. He should probably revisit them. Maybe he’ll catch a spark of inspiration for the next set of trials. He fell back in his chair with the first journal in his hands and opened it, his eyes skipping right to the essence of his report.

_Date: 13th of October 2016_

_Goal_

_1) Determine cause of death of vermin found in office._

_2) Green matter was found with them, determine contents_

_Approach_

_1) Dissect vermin (3 mice, 1 rat), analyse blood sample and urine_

_2) Perform toxicology analysis on green matter._

_Results_

_1) Vermin cause of death: broken neck, blood loss due to bite marks. Self-inflicted? Nerves in the central nervous system damaged before time of death. Blood and urine values normal._

_2) Green matter showed electrostatic properties, could be related to nerve damage?_

_Conclusion_

_Further experimentation required. Study how live rodents interact with green matter._

He vividly remembers the day he first found the green matter, surrounded by some dead mice and a rat. That was three days before the first entry of the first journal. Over two years ago, _verdammt._ With a frustrated sigh, he hurls the journal away from him before throwing his hands into his hair, elbows resting on the desk. He had been researching this fucking green goop for _two whole years_ and got nothing! Nothing! In one last desperate attempt to find out something, anything, about the test subject that ran off with his progress, he turned on his monitor and pulled his keyboard towards him. _Chase Brody, let’s see what Google knows about you…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm already working on Chapter 3, so expect that bad boy to drop somewhere next week. Thank you for reading!


	3. Sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS: violence, death, blood, knife, gore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'll upload the next chapter soon!"  
> And then I didn't  
> Sorry but thank you for waiting!

**Chase**

_He read somewhere that the human jaw is strong enough to bite off a finger, yet you wouldn’t be able to even if you tried, because your brain has a way of preventing it. He felt like that protective instinct was gone now. He felt like he had lost control over his body, like he was sitting in the backseat of a car. The driver was reckless, the car was gonna crash, and there was nothing Chase could do about it_.

He jolted upright, and almost fell off the couch. It took him a second to figure out where he was, but soon enough memories started flushing back into his mind’s eye, g giving him a headache. He was in the garage, on an old couch, just as Stacy had directed. His grumbling stomach motivated him to get up and walk towards the door leading to the house. He hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday morning at the lab. He froze with his hand on the door knob, Stacy’s voice echoing in his head head: _“Do not enter the house while the kids are there.”_

He looked around the garage for a way to tell time, and found a clock hanging on the wall. 11 o’clock. Which means that the kids should be at at school. Unless it’s the weekend. Is it? His stomach gave out another whale mating call, and he decided to risk it. He slowly opened the door and peeks through. The living room was empty and smelled like coffee, he could hear Stacy upstairs. He closed the door behind him and headed for the kitchen, quiet as a mouse. It was weird to feel like an intruder in the house that used to be his home. There were still family pictures on the walls, but not a single one featured him. He took most of these pictures. Christmas, the beach, feeding ducks in the park. A happy family. His throat started to close up. _Don’t let Stacy see you like this man_. He blinked away the tears, took a few deep breaths, and started making coffee.

Stacy entered the kitchen with a duffel bag, just as Chase sat down at the kitchen table with a sandwich and a cup of coffee.

“Good morning,” he started, he opened his mouth to ask about her night, but decided against it at the last minute. _You’re not a couple anymore, stop acting like it_.

“Good morning,” Stacy replied. The duffel bag hit the floor with a thud as she dropped it. “You still had some clothes here, I packed them for you,”

He took a bite of his sandwich as an excuse not to say anything

“The kids will return from school at half past three, I expect you to be gone by then.”

A sip of coffee to wash down the sandwich. “What day is it?”

“What?”

“What day is it? Monday, tuesday…”

“It’s thursday, Chase,” she opened her mouth, probably to add some demeaning comment, but her phone rang. She looked at the screen and frowned before answering. “Hello? This is Stacy speaking. Yeah. Uhm, yeah, he’s here,” she covered the phones mic with her hand and turned to Chase. “It’s for you. Some doctor? Sneeze-something?” She held the phone out to him.

 _Oh shit, shitshitshit. How did he find me? Did I drop Stacy’s name? Does he know this address?_ His left eye started to twitch, as his breaths became more rapid and shallow, and his heart sped up. He stood up and-

** Anti **

He stood in a kitchen. There was a woman, she was talking to him.

“Chase? Are you gonna answer the phone? Or do you want me to leave the doctor a message?”

_Who the fuck is Chase? And what doctor?_

“Who-”

She sighed impatiently. “Doctor Sneeze-something. He wants to speak with you.” She waved a phone in front of his face.

“Doctor Schneeplestein?” He took the phone and held it to his ear.

“Chase? Chase is that you? Listen, I’m doctor Von Schneeplestein, I’m in charge of the, erm, experiment, you partook in yesterday. Something happened, and we’d like you to return to the lab for a checkup. We can pick you up if you-”

He hung up. No way he’s going back to that fucker. Anger welled up and burned in his throat.

“Chase? Are you alright?”

That woman again. “Will you shut the fuck up?” There’s a rumbling in his head, it’s getting louder every second. He wanted to scream or throw something. The rumbling is accompanied by a hunger, and a promise. The woman grabbed his shoulders but he pushed her away and walked backwards, until he hit the kitchen countertop. He looked behind him and spotted the knife block. _Perfect._ He randomly selected one, and started to walk towards the woman.

“Chase? What are you doing? Chase! Please put the knife down, you’re scaring me!” She stumbled backwards until she bumped into the kitchen table, her hands slid over the surface, looking for something to defend herself with. She grabbed a mug and threw it at him.

He managed to evade the mug, but not the hot liquid that spilled out of it. Not that it mattered, the coffee only burned for a second, it’s nothing. A plate followed the mug, but he dodged again and it hit the wall behind him, shards shattering onto the floor.

She tried to reach for a vase with flowers in it, but she was too slow, he reached her and had already plunged the knife into her stomach. Her scream became a gasp when he pulled the knife out and stabbed again, between the ribs this time. She fell to the floor with a thud, blood spilling out of her wounds and over his hands. He knelt down next to her, and took the knife from her lung before digging it into her torso again. And again. And again. Eventually, she stopped moving. His anger left his body with every drop of blood that spilled onto the tiled kitchen floor, and his head cleared. He stood up and looked around, before inspecting himself.

The back of his shirt was drenched in coffee, warm and sticky against his skin. The front of his shirt shares the same feeling, along with his hands, arms, and even his knees.

** Chase **

“What the fuck have I done?” he whispered. His blood-stained hands trembled as he looked down upon his wife. Ex-wife.

“Stacy! Stacy! Please wake up, Stacy please!” He dropped down onto his knees and shook her shoulders.

There’s blood everywhere. Way too much blood. It’s not his. He grabbed her wrist and tried to find a pulse, to no avail. He held her face in his bloodied hands, hoping, praying, for a sign of life. Nothing. Her empty eyes were staring at the ceiling, her breathless lips slightly parted. Nothing. There was a knife sticking out of her stomach, blood spilled from numerous wounds into a large, sticky puddle. _Dead._

 _What the hell happened?_ He scrambled backwards and inspected himself: his clothes were heavy and warm with blood. _Did I-_. He shook his head. He’d never, he couldn’t have, why would he? But there was nobody else in the house. Just him, red-handed, and the dead body of his ex-wife.

He stumbled to the kitchen sink, and tried to wash the blood off his hands and arms. He took off his shirt, and his pants too, and dropped them in the sink with the intention of cleaning them. Tears streamed down his face and dropped off his chin, mixing with the blood and coffee and tap water in the sink. _This can’t be real. There’s no way this is real_. The clothes remained stained red and brown, no matter how hard he rubbed. _The duffel bag, I have clean clothes in a duffel bag._ He left his clothes in the sink and put on a clean set from the bag. _I have to leave. If the cops find me here-._ He didn’t want to finish that thought.

He retrieved one of his backpacks from the coat rack, but not without passing by the mirror. He looked terrible. Red, puffy eyes lay deep in his pale green face. _Green?_ He blinked and looked again. He could’ve sworn his skin had a green hue just a second ago. _Probably just a trick of the light._ He filled the backpack with water and food, carefully avoiding the puddle of blood on the floor. He also grabbed some cash from the savings jar Stacy hid on the top shelf of the bookcase and stuffed it in the bag. He looked down at her body again, at the knife in her torso. _I should probably take that too_. He slowly approached, making sure not to step in the blood. Breathing slowly, he reached down and grabbed the handle. He flinched at the sloshing sound it made when he pulled it out. He tried to clean it as best as he could in the sink, and used the fabric there to wipe it off. He held it in his hand, letting it balance on his finger, before adding it to the duffel bag. He closed the bags and headed out. _Where to?_


	4. Damage Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to write and post, uni is taking up a lot of time right now.

**Henrik**

Unbelievable how much you can find out about someone’s personal life by just typing their name into the Google search bar. Social media pages, news articles, even the mention of his name on various websites… He took another sip of his coffee and looked at the list in front of him. Chase Brody: ex-husband to Stacy, father of two children. They had a pretty nasty split and then… no trace of him. The poor man probably became homeless shortly after. Searching for Stacy and Chase together yielded a small announcement in a flyer from the local church, congratulating them with the birth of their daughter, a phone number and a home address attached. With any luck, at least one of those is still correct. 

He took off his glasses and pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. He had been scouring the internet for scraps of information for hours with no breaks, except for quick trips to the coffee machine. _I can call them tomorrow, they probably won’t respond well to being phoned by a stranger in the middle of the night_. He folded his list, tucked it in his bag, and headed out. The motion-controlled lights flickered on ahead of him as he made his way down the corridor, the light dying out behind him. He instinctively activated alarms and locked doors as he passed by them, even though there wasn't much to lock in anymore. But there will be.

A ray of sunlight shone directly in his eyes, pulling him out of his sleep. It was so dark when he came home last night, he hadn’t even noticed the curtains weren’t closed. He yawned and stretched as his eyes found his alarm clock. _Scheiße._ It was already past eleven! He quickly stumbled out of bed and made his way into the living room. His bag was by the door, where he had let it slide off his shoulder when he came home last night. He rummaged through it, looking for the piece of paper with the phone number on it. _Ha!_ He placed it on the countertop, turned on his coffee machine, and headed back into his bedroom to find some pants and a shirt. He had to think carefully about what he was gonna say to them. He didn’t even know whether the phone number belonged to Stacy or Chase, or someone else entirely. He found a blank note and a pen and started writing out a script. 

A woman’s voice. “Hello, this is Stacy.”

“Ah, good morning! My name is Doctor von Schneeplestein. Is Chase around? I need to speak to him, it’s important.”

“Yeah. Uhm, yeah, he’s here,” she replied. Static as she probably covered the mic with her hand, some intelligible phrases, background noise, more static, more phrases.

One clear voice. “Doctor Schneeplestein?”

“Chase? Chase is that you? Listen, I’m doctor Von Schneeplestein, I’m in charge of the, erm, experiment, you partook in yesterday. Something happened, and we’d like you to return to the lab for a checkup. We can pick you up if you are unable to…” Did he hang up? Why would he do that? _Why wouldn’t he do that?_ To be honest, he hadn’t expected to speak to Chase at all. At least he now knows that he’s still alive, and with Stacy. Perhaps it’s time for a house visit. 

Following the guidance of Google Maps, he made his way to a street lined with terraced houses. It was Thursday and the street was abandoned, aside from a cat sitting in a sunlit spot in a front yard, lazily observing the birds in the trees above. The Brody home was a corner house, with a garage attached to it. He walked up to the door through the unkempt front yard. The opened curtains allowed him to look into the living room, but there was nobody in sight. The front door had a discoloured spot on it, in the shape of a name-plaque. He rang the doorbell and waited. He rang again. Nothing. He knocked on the door, and then on the window. Nothing. The street was still empty, so he walked over to the garage door and tried it. Unlocked. 

He slid it open and entered, carefully closing the door behind him. The garage was messy, boxes and old furniture scattered around the room. An old couch, with a blanket and a pillow on the floor next to it, looked like it was recently slept on. The air inside was cold and tasted like copper. There were three doors: the garage door he just entered through behind him, one leading to the backyard dead ahead, and one leading into the house on the side. He opened the door leading into the house and immediately wished he hadn’t.

It was a fucking crime scene. He’d broken into a house and walked right into a crime scene. Fucking fantastic. Bile welled up in his throat and shards cracked beneath his feet as he stumbled to the kitchen sink, his stomach’s contents spilling out of his mouth. He let the tap water chill the veins in his wrists. He washed his mouth and his face and took a deep breath before looking at her again. 

He had to think clearly and act carefully. What to do? He can’t call the cops; if they arrest him or Chase it’s game over. He can’t leave her here either, someone else will find her. Oh god, their children. He can’t do that to them! He had to clean up. He reached into his pocket with and dialled with jittery fingers. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna need a clean-up. Body, blood, no weapon. It’s not subject 13, although I don’t doubt he was involved. I’m texting you the address.”

He sat himself down in the living room, thoughts racing through his head as he waited for his colleagues to arrive. _Goddamnit Chase, why would you do that?_

Within an hour, everything was cleaned up. Even the smell of death had been replaced by a flowery scent. Everyone had left, except for Sam Wilson. They stood in front of him, arms crossed, quickly running out of patience.

“Snap out of it Henrik! This is nothing like you. What’s the matter?”

His head hung heavy in his hands as he stared down at his shoes. “... the kids…”

“What? Speak up, dude!”

“What are we supposed to do with the kids?” He looked up just in time to see Sam’s facial expression go from impatient to annoyed.

“What kids?”

“His kids. Chase’s kids.” And from annoyed to worried.

“He has kids?”

“Yes. Two.” He gestures to the family pictures on the wall.

“Fuck.”

“Yup.”

Silence surrounded them as they thought, while the clock ticked on. The kids could return home any minute now.

“You could… bring them to the lab?” Sam hesitantly suggested. “We have spare rooms for them. It would certainly motivate subj-, uh, Chase, to return, wouldn’t you think?”

“That’s not a great idea, but it’s the best we’ve got.” He nodded to himself while he thought about it. “Yeah, we could make that work. Why don’t you head ahead to the lab, prepare their rooms? Make them a bit more… kid-friendly.”

“Will do. You’ll be alright?”

“I’m fine. I’ll call you when we’re on our way.”

After Sam left, Henrik went upstairs, where he quickly identified the children's bedrooms by the colourful letters on the doors. Caspian and Leah. He packed some clothes and toys for each kid in a bag and decided to wait for them outside. The street started to fill with life as more and more kids and parents came home from school and work. Two kids on bicycles skidded to a halt in front of Henrik.

“Hello!” One said

“Who are you?” Asked the other, taller kid.

“My name is Henrik. You two must be Leah and Caspian.”

“You look like daddy! Are you our uncle?” The shorter one- Caspian- asked, while parking his bike against the garage door. 

“Uhm, no, I… I’m a friend of your dad’s though.”

“Are you here to take us to dad? We haven’t seen him in so long, mommy doesn’t want us to.” Caspian walked up to Henrik and looked at him, his eyes filled with hope.

He kneeled to look both children in the eye. “Listen, mommy is gonna be away from home for a few days, so she asked me to pick you up! Look, she packed this bag for you!” He opened the bag and showed them it’s contents. The youngest kid immediately reached inside and yanked out a worn-off teddy bear. 

“Mr Snugglebits!” he cheered as he buried his face in its neck.

If there’s one thing Henrik has learned from raising a child, it’s that the most worn off toys and books are always the favourites. 

Leah seemed a bit more cautious than her younger counterpart, her bike still by her side, ready to bolt. But the bag with clothes and Mr Snugglebits seemed like evidence enough for her, and she locked her bike next to her little brother’s. 

“My car is right outside the street. Let’s walk there, yeah?”

The kids had been rather quiet since they left their home street. Henrik glanced at the rearview mirror again. Leah was looking out the window, but Caspian was staring right at him.

“Are you _sure_ you’re not our uncle?” He eventually asked.

Leah poked him with her elbow and gave her little brother a look.

He didn’t seem to take the memo and continued, "Daddy has a twin brother, uncle Jack. They look almost exactly the same! He used to visit all the time but we haven't seen him in so long. Daddy said he's on vacation, but he hasn't sent any postcards! Not even one!”

“Oh really?” _A twin brother? I didn’t find anything about a twin brother… I suppose I should look for this “Jack Brody” when I get the chance._

“I don’t know anything about your uncle, but you kids haven’t seen your dad in quite some time either, correct?”

“Mom doesn’t want us to, she says he’s dangerous,” she shrugs “He’d never hurt us.” Her face was still turned towards the window, but her soft voice sounded bitter.

“Perhaps it is time for a family reunion then! I’ll see if Chase wants to stop by to meet with you two. Just don’t tell your mother, okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
